Greg Bear - Blood Music

“Just you, nobody else,” Vergil said.

“Okay.” He took down directions. It would take him about seventy minutes to get to La Jolla; he told Vergil he would be there by nine.

Gail was home before Edward, who offered to fix a quickie dinner for them. “Rain check the night out?”

She took the news of his trip glumly and didn’t say much as she helped chop vegetables for a salad. “I’d like to have you look at some of the videos,” she said as they ate, giving him a sidewise glance. Her nursery class had been involved in video art projects for a week; she was proud of the results.

“Is there time?” he asked diplomatically. They had weathered some rocky times before getting married, almost splitting up. When new difficulties arose, they tended to be overly delicate now, tiptoeing around the main issues.

“Probably not,” Gail admitted. She stabbed at a piece of raw zucchini. “What’s wrong with Vergil this time?”

“This time?”

“Yeah. He’s done this before. When he was working for Westinghouse and he got into that copyright mess.”

“Freelancing for them.”

“Yeah. What can you do for him now?”

“I’m not even sure what the problem is,” Edward said, being more evasive than he wanted.

“Secret?”

“No. Maybe. But weird.”

“Is he ill?”

Edward cocked his head and lifted a hand: Who knows?

“You’re not going to tell me?”

“Not right now.” Edward’s smile, an attempt to placate, obviously only irritated her more. “He asked me not to.”

“Could he get you in trouble?”

Edward hadn’t thought about that. “I don’t think so,” he said.

“Coming back what time tonight?”

“As soon as I can,” he said. He stroked her face with the tips of his fingers. “Don’t be mad,” he suggested softly.

“Oh, no,” she said emphatically. “Never that.”

Edward began the drive to La Jolla in an ambiguous mood; whenever he thought about Vergil’s condition, it was as if he entered a different universe. The rules changed, and Edward was not sure he had even the inkling of an outcome.

He took the La Jolla Village Drive exit and wandered down Torrey Pines Road into the city. Modest and very expensive homes vied for space with three and four-story apartment buildings and condominiums along curving, sloping streets. Bicyclists and the perennial joggers wore brightly colored jumpsuits to ward off the cool night air; even at this hour of the night, La Jolla was active with strollers and exercisers.

He found a parking space with little difficulty and deftly pulled the Volkswagen in. Locking the door, he sniffed the sea air and wondered if he and Gail could afford to move. The rent would be very steep, the commute would be long. He decided he wasn’t that concerned with status. Still, the neighborhood was nice—410 Pearl Street, not the best the town had to offer, but more than he could afford, now at least. It was simply Vergil’s way to fall into opportunities like the condominium. On the other hand, Edward decided as he buzzed at the ground level door, he wouldn’t want Vergil’s luck if it accompanied the rest of the package.

The elevator played bland music and displayed little hologram clips advertising condos for sale, various products and social activities for the upcoming week. On the third floor, Edward walked past imitation Louis 15th furniture and gold-marbled mirrors.

Vergil opened the door on the first ring and motioned him inside. He wore a checked robe with long sleeves and carpet slippers. His fingers twisted an unlit pipe in one hand as he walked into the living room and sat down, saying nothing.

“You have an infection,” Edward reiterated, showing him the printout.

“Oh?” Vergil looked the paper over quickly, then set it down on the glass coffee table.

“That’s what the machine says.”

“Yes, well, apparently it isn’t prepared for such odd cases.”

“Perhaps not, but I’d advise—”

“I know. Sorry to be rude, Edward, but what’s a hospital going to do for me? I’d sooner take a computer into a shop full of cavemen and ask them to fix it. These figures…they undoubtedly show something, but we aren’t able to decide what.”

Edward removed his coat. “Listen. You have me worried now.” Vergil’s expression changed slowly to a kind of frantic beatitude. He squinted at the ceiling and pursed his lips.

“Where’s Candice?”

“Out for the evening. We’re not getting along too well right now.”

“She knows?”

Vergil smirked. “How could she not know? She sees me naked every night” He turned away from Edward as he said that. He was lying.

“Are you stoned?”

He shook his head, then nodded once, very slow. “Listening,” he said.

“To what?”

“I don’t know. Sounds. Not sounds. Like music. The heart, all the blood vessels, the friction of the blood along the arteries, veins. Activity. Music in the blood.” He regarded Edward plaintively. “What excuse did you give Gail?”

“None, really. Just that you were in trouble and I had to come see you.”

“Can you stay?”

“No.” He glanced around the apartment suspiciously, looking for ashtrays, packs of papers.

“I’m not stoned, Edward,” Vergil said. “I may be wrong, but I think something big is happening. I think they’re finding out who I am.”

Edward sat down across from Vergil, staring at him intently. Vergil didn’t seem to notice. Some inner process was absorbing him.

“Is there any coffee?” Edward asked. Vergil motioned to the kitchen. Edward filled a pot of water to boil and took a jar of instant from the fourth cabinet he looked into. Cup in hand, he returned to the seat. Vergil twisted his head back and forth, eyes wide open.

“You always knew what you wanted to be, didn’t you?” he asked Edward.

“More or less.”

“Smart moves. A gynecologist. Never false moves. I was different I had goals, but no direction. Like a map without roads, just places to be. I didn’t give a shit for anything or anybody but myself. Even science. Just a means. I’m surprised I got so far.” He gripped his chair arms. “As for Mother…” The tension in his hand was clear. “Witch. Witch and spook for parents. Changeling child. Where small things make big changes.”

“Something wrong?”

They’re talking to me, Edward.” He shut his eyes.

“Jesus.” There was nothing else he could think of to say. He thought wildly of hoaxes and being made a fool of and Vergil’s unreliability in the past, but he could not get away from the hard facts the diagnostic equipment had shown him.

For a quarter-hour Vergil seemed to be asleep. Edward checked his pulse, which was strong and steady; felt his forehead—slightly cool—and made himself more coffee. He was about to pick up the phone, undecided whether to call a hospital or Gail, when Vergil’s eyelids flickered open and he shifted his gaze to meet Edward’s.

“Hard to understand exactly what time is like for them,” he said. “It’s taken them maybe three, four days to figure out language, key human concepts. Can you imagine, Edward? They didn’t even know . They thought I was the universe. But now they’re on to it On to me. Right now.” He stood and walked across the beige carpet to the curtained plate glass window, clumsily reaching behind the drapes to find the cord and pull it A few apartment and house lights descended to the abyss of the night ocean. “They must have thousands of researchers hooked up to my neurons. They’re damned efficient you know, not to have screwed me up. So delicate in there. Making changes.”

“The hospital,” Edward said hoarsely. He cleared his throat “Please, Vergil. Now.”